


Successor

by Opalgirl



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalgirl/pseuds/Opalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After King Jasson's death, the court and royal family look to his successor, with varying degrees of confidence or doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Successor

No one had expected old King Jasson’s death. According to his healers, it had been the king’s advancing age that had finally caught up with him in his sleep, not some hidden illness or injury. In their shock at the monarch’s death, the court was still aware of one fact.

 

Their new king, formerly their young prince, was not prepared to take the throne, or to wear the crown his father had previously worn. Roald heard the whispers, and knew that everyone around him, from his family to the commoners in the city, knew the truth.

 

The whispers also said that Prince Baldric, Roald’s younger brother, should have been born first, and made the Heir. Unfortunately, that was true, too. Baldric enjoyed the trappings of rank and power, was better suited to inherit King Jasson’s ‘empire’, and would have tried to continue their father’s conquering ways, had he been Crown Prince.

 

Roald, they said, was too passive, too peaceful. A man who cared more for his wife than for his nation. Roald tried his best to ignore them, but when he visited his mother and saw the doubt in her eyes, he knew better.

 

Had Baldric been born first into the line of succession, Roald wouldn’t have begrudged him the throne at all. Let his confident and charming younger brother, who preferred to live on the battlefield when he could, face all of the criticism.

 

“I considered today,” he told Lianne in the privacy of their quarters, where there were no listening ears or prying eyes, “abdicating in favor of Baldric. He’s clearly better suited to be King.”

 

His wife twined her hand with his. “Roald,” she said softly, her dark eyes still reflecting the recent hurt of a failed pregnancy, “you can’t do that.”

 

He frowned at her and tipped his head to one side, silently asking her to explain.

 

She kissed the side of his head lightly. “I may have been just his daughter, and I certainly didn’t receive the education that Gareth did, but I did learn things from Father, and from living at Court. If you abdicate, the people will turn on your brother as quickly as they’ve turned on you.”

 

Roald felt his frown deepen. “They adore him, at the moment.”

 

“True, but the Barzun conquest is still fresh in their minds. As much as we adore Fahira, they would still see her as a foreigner. It's not even that, precisely." Lianne let go of his hand and sighed. " _Your_ people are tired of marching to war on the king's conquering whim, Roald. They're tired, and they won't stand for it. Even you admit the Barzun conquest was… ill-advised. Baldric, gods all bless, was seemingly born in your father's likeness; he'll only want to conquer more."

 

He gazed at his young wife, amazed and rather startled by the depth of her knowledge; he had never expected the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman to take such an interest in politics or the opinions of common soldiers.

 

"My brother travels on border patrols, if you'll recall, and I do remember Baldric stating he would like to see Tortall best Carthak in wealth and land – the nation needs no more war; they're run dry."

 

"Lianne, the talk says I'm too weak, too cowardly to be a King."

 

"No." Her eyes flashed for a brief moment and she clasped his hand. "You're merely different from the King your father was."

 

***

 

"Mother." Roald rose from his bow and studied the woman before him. In the deepest mourning, she looked to be frail and old.

 

Queen Verana smiled at him. "My son," she said, her voice steady. "You've come by yourself?"

 

"Lianne keeps her own company today, Mother."

 

"I see." She resettled herself in her chair -- her hip troubled her still -- and nodded to him, indicating he should sit.

 

Roald did -- no one sat in the Queen's presence without her consent -- and inclined his head to her.

 

"Your lady has a good heart," his mother remarked. "A noble one, but she is kind. I think she may well be what this realm needs. And you?" She smiled at him once again. "I respected and loved your father, of course, but I can see that you will be the one who will bring us peace. That is what your people need, my son."

 

Roald blinked, startled to hear the same sentiment he had heard from Lianne. "I...."

 

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Verana continued, shaking her head. "You did not deserve my doubt. Your brother is too rash, too quick to anger, too concerned with himself. You, on the other hand..." she nodded. "You were firstborn for a reason, Roald."

 

"Mother, Baldric is the most like Father."

 

"And whoever said that was a good thing?" Verana shook her head once again. "People dislike change, Roald. Allow them time to adjust."

 

          ***                                                         

 

"Baldric." Roald ignored the rich decoration of his brother's study as he entered.

 

His younger brother, the Prince who had been born in King Jasson's likeness, raised his head, set his pen down, and leaned back in his chair. "Roald," he said, sounding mildly surprised. "Your lady does not accompany you?"

 

"Lianne keeps her own company, brother." His wife was not stuck permanently to his side, as some people seemed to believe.

 

"Ah. Is she still unwell, then?" Baldric's eyes flickered with sympathy and concern and Roald relaxed slightly. His brother was in one of his mild, almost benevolent moods.

 

"You could say as much, yes. Times have been hard to her."

 

"I can see why." Baldric nodded, in agreement. "They would be difficult for any of us. I can see, brother, by the look on your face, that this is not some social call."

 

Roald sighed and spread his hands wide, half-exasperated, half-desperate. "Don't play the fool, Baldric. It doesn't become you in the slightest. You've heard what's said. How the people view me."

 

"Mother has faith in you."

 

"She does. She is not the entire nobility. Should I rule, it will be drastically different from Father's reign. It will be a transition, at best."

 

"And at worst, riots or civil war," Baldric said, tapping his pen on the edge of the blotter, thoughtfully. "Is this you way of asking me for assistance?"

 

Even though it stung his pride, Roald nodded.

 

Baldric smiled and Roald tried to ignore the gleam in his brother's eyes. "But, of course. I would be glad to advise you, if necessary."


End file.
